And If the Chemist, Naught but Man

The Silver Cup
by Clara Ophelia Bland

I sat before the white robed priest,
Within the church,
And all his words to me seemed trite,
To find some hidden word of light,
The while I search.

At last my wandering thoughts were fixed,
And looking up,
From priestly lips were falling words,
As beautiful as the song of birds,
About a cup.

Within a learned chemist's shop,
A careless youth,
Let fall a cup in silver wrought,
And in strong acid it was caught,
Dissolved in truth.

The chemist mild was undismayed,
And calmly brought
Another acid, mixed the two,
When lo! there slowly came to view,
The silver sought.

And if the chemist, naught but man,
Could reunite
Dissolved fragments, surely God
Can call our dust from 'neath the sod,
By His great might.